


You & I

by JenelleLucia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America being America (Hetalia), Angst and Feels, Child Neglect, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Romance, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenelleLucia/pseuds/JenelleLucia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite". Lia reflects on her past with Alfred while living in their present. [Rewrite; Rated for self harm and mornings after]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Found Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back once again! And you all must be wondering why I deleted For the Love of America.
> 
> I honestly figured that it would take me much too long to depict every single important year of Lia's life into one fic that could take me months and time to write, but why not sum it all up into one tiny thing? Ah, well...I wouldn't say tiny, but I promise that I will sum it all up here!
> 
> The way I wanted to write this one was sort of like diary entries or letters, which would be in the first person, and a flash forward to Lia and Alfred in the future as well as snippets of their relationship that correspond with the "entry", if what you will. I hope you guys enjoyed For the Love of America while it was still up, and I hope you enjoy this new rewrite!

_You found me._

I remember the first time you spoke my name, when we first crossed paths in the way you had never expected us to. I've seen bloodshed and violence at an age one never should see it at; and you, you've been around far more than I have and yet, you've seen it all happen. You've seen, in just the years you've been around, what I had seen in the firsts of my life and everything had been a vivid, vivid blur to you. I sometimes wondered why we looked the same - your hair matched mine, blue matched blue but in varying degrees, and we both had that hint of a tan gracing our skin. I wondered why the smile on your face matched mine, your sky blue eyes full of curiosity and slight fear and wonder at the sight of me and when I first saw you I had the same look, just accompanied by one last glance of question.

Why were you there? What did I have to offer you at a young age?

You were pretty lax with me, which is all I can say at the moment. The minute we first crossed paths I knew that you would make some sort of difference. I just didn't know what. You'd have gone away often, and I would just sit there by the window waiting for you. You'd come back every time though, I promise. You'd tell me stories of where you had gone and what you had done and I would listen _endlessly_. And by endlessly, it would be until I fell asleep. You also brought me back all sorts of presents and more and yet the only thing I ever wanted was to have you home. I wanted you home and I swore that I could have sat by the window for the rest of my life if I had to. No one could pull me away from that place, and yet...yet...

I seemed to pull myself away.

That place never lost meaning for me. I mean, it had getting older, but back then it never had. That was my safe haven, the only place I had ever felt safe in, and as I grew I felt trapped. _Trapped_ is the wrong word. Or maybe it was the right one. Who knows. All I know is that I was the one who trapped myself there, or maybe you were the one who trapped me there when I wouldn't stop sitting. And I sometimes think that we're both at fault. Neither one of us takes the blame, and yet I can't decide who was more at fault. Conflicting, but what could I do?

I remember the earlier times you'd come home with all the stories you'd tell, all the presents just for me, and just your presence in particular. I felt reassured at the moment, and maybe, just maybe, you'd stay. And yes, I can be wrong. Very wrong.

So wrong that it _suffocated_ me.

_[2016]_

The feeling of Alfred's skin against hers soothed Lia almost instantly.

The American smiled as he looped his arms around her waist, pulling her down against him, which earned a returning grin from the Tavaruan in his arms. She remembered how badly she fell for that smile - so warm, inviting, and so bright, but at the same time they had once been filled with the emptiest of promises, the sickest of lies, and the harshest of truths that she could barely stand to think of now that she was in the moment. No, no. She was with Alfred. He could tell if she was seemingly in distress or if she was bothered by something, and he was the one to immediately assume that it was his fault and -

She only ignored the thought when her boyfriend pressed warm kisses to her neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook of where he kissed her many times before. Lia could feel his eyes glancing from her neck to her lips where he immediately leaned over and pressed one more kiss to the corner of her mouth. And god, she loved times like these with Alfred.

Her friends didn't really approve of her new (and first) boyfriend; it was okay, as long as they tried being civil. She secretly was still a little wary about him (after all, once a playboy, seemingly always a playboy) but she had learned to look past everything and just completely go with it. She smiled when he brought his fingers up to her hair and carefully combed it through her curls while pressing her forehead against his. Alfred was honestly never the type to be too close, but Lia loved it either way. Another thing was, he also wasn't the type to express himself in actions, but more in words. That scared Lia, too; she fell for the words, but she never looked at the deeper meaning behind them, which wasn't a very good quality on her part.

(Then again, both parties were at fault for hesitation on both sides. Alfred, as he lately had been unable to express himself in front of someone who was able to express herself much easily than she, and this shouldn't have been a bigger problem than when analyzing Shakespearean sonnets were a thing; and Lia, for holding herself back and not enjoying the ride that this new feeling had to offer. Yes, she was scared, and yes, she was learning to let go; no, she was absolutely terrified and she couldn't let go of absolutely _everything_ , which just limited her trust in him even more.)

And he went paranoid sometimes. She would probably leave him like before, and she was more than all about reassuring him that she wasn't going anywhere. It was more than a perfect time to prove it.

Lia would only smile at her boyfriend as she pressed her forehead against his, and said boyfriend would press the back of his hand against her cheeks and run it up and down that one side of her face. Alfred would smile in return, leaning over to press more kisses against her nose and cheeks and lips and she would kiss back immediately, smiling when he smiled and occasionally nestling her face into the crook of his shoulder. She'd laugh when he'd make a remark or he'd grin when she said something incredibly straightforward, but the one thing she wouldn't tell him was that she loved him.

Not yet, anyway.

"I like you," she'd only murmur sweetly, and that was all that she would give him for now.


	2. I Believed in You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revolution starts out as an idea. Then it happens.

_I believed in you._

For a moment, this was a fairy tale in Lia's eyes. And at the same time, it was as if the fairy tale was slowly ending and at the same time introducing the new concept of reality and the young blonde didn't know whether or not to embrace it or enjoy the last of that fairy tale before it slipped out of her grasp. And believe me, it was slipping away very quickly. Gone away were the bedtime stories, the long hours of sitting the day away by the window for someone she eventually realized wouldn't come (well, she knew he would come; but she was unaware of the uninvited "guests" that later became normal, but painful occurrences growing up) and she just had to learn to live on her own. 

Just thinking of Alfred made Lia's head spin, sitting there as she sipped some tea that Arthur, who had come over to watch her once again, had made for her. She recoiled at the bitter taste that the Earl Grey had somehow brought her, and the younger immediately spooned in a few teaspoons of sugar before stirring it in and lifted the teacup with great care, just as the Englishman sitting before her taught her many years before. However, she once again recoiled at the remaining bitterness before setting the cup down on its saucer. 

"I don't think I can get used to the taste yet, Arthur," she spoke up, leaning back on the loveseat she sat on while looking up at the blond-haired, green-eyed Briton sitting in front of her. He simply sipped his tea, leaving the younger to wonder how he could drink without even the smallest of shudders and an expression of disgust, much like what she had done moments before. 

"Quite understandable, love," he answered with a quick wave before setting his own cup down on the saucer, leaning back on the chair with arms folded and one leg crossed over the other. "I don't understand something." 

At that, Lia eyed him almost nervously, but she did sit up straight (also what he had taught her to do) and listened closely. "And that might be...?" 

"Why don't you leave Alfred already? I mean, you're young, love. You seem done with what he's doing, aren't you? Going around, never coming home...surely you must be tired of that." 

The blond-haired girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, still looking in his direction. Seeing as he was the British Empire, it was ironic; he...actually supported her having her freedom? It was a little odd the way she looked at it. And she had to think of it this way: Exactly why was he asking her this? Was it for the possibility that maybe, if she became independent then he would come and take her over and convert her to his ways? That only made Lia shrink a little, and Arthur chuckle lowly.

"I didn't think you of all people would advocate for independence." _Especially under the circumstance that Alfred was the one who broke away from you..._

(And she didn't think he was the type to advocate for such a liberal idea _at all_. For one, Lia knew that Arthur was traditional and preferred to go about the ways he had always gone, and never looked to another path.)

"I may surprise you. Have you ever actually thought about it, though?"

"Not really. I don't know what I'd do by myself."

Arthur frowned. Surely he had taught Lia better than that. Why yes, he might not have liked the idea of a colony of his breaking away (and America was the only one ever to do so _directly_ ), but she was different. She was his colony. When Alfred had vowed not to make the same mistakes that Britain had so "made" while still under his rule, he was beginning to make mistakes that had begun to drive Lia away from him. And Arthur's role? Taking care of Lia was one.

Driving her even farther away from Alfred was another. 

He honestly cared about Tavarua, going as far as to say that he loved her, and there was so much that Alfred had done that Lia was beginning to realize was hurting her emotionally and mentally. She didn't deserve any of that. She needed someone who would really cared for her and wanted to stay around, instead of leaving her alone almost all the time and neglecting her in watching her grow. Arthur was lucky to be around for most of that, and for being so involved in Lia's life at all. At this point, she wasn't even a colony he would consider taking over once she gained her independence from Alfred; he would be her France (as repulsive as it sounded to the Brit) and be the one to help her get there, much like how France helped America get his freedom. And if France was able to do that, Britain was able to do this. 

"What do you say love? Think about it?" 

"It's tempting." 

. 

"I can't believe Arthur brought up that idea to you..." It had almost been a week since the conversation Arthur had with Lia, and now Matthew was sitting in the garden behind the giant mansion Alfred and Lia lived in (or it was more like just Lia lived in it; it was big and lonely and Alfred was _supposed_ to live in it _with her_ but he was gone...again.) with the said young blonde. "Why would he bring it up?" 

"I'm not sure," Lia answered, still pondering over it. "He doesn't seem like the type of person to bring it up, even if he says he isn't still upset about what happened then..." 

(Everyone knew that Arthur was still upset, that's the truth; it's been 125 years since it happened and he still wasn't over it. And now that people were thinking that since revolutionary ideas were spreading in Tavarua, he was the one spreading them in the hopes that Lia would one day actually heed his advice and leave Alfred the way he broke away from England.) 

"He never really liked talking about it, which is the thing." 

Matthew paused for a moment, only letting the sound of the birds and the rustling of the leaves on the trees overtake the silence that had befell on them shortly. He then spoke up again, answering with a, "Maybe it's just to get back at my brother." 

Lia gave him a disbelieving look, then shook her head. "No. Arthur wouldn't tell me that just to get back at Alfred for leaving. He can't do anything about it now. It's been 125 years."

"Do you really believe that?"

"He isn't that type of person." 

"Lia, I will tell you now that people aren't always what they seem to be. You may have heard of their reputations, what they're praised and hated for, and even if you do that still doesn't change who they really are." 

That shut the blonde up afterwards. And at the same time, she couldn't help but to wonder if Arthur was really telling the truth or if he was just using her as a powder keg for revenge against his former colony. 

Either way, that concept...that idea of freedom sounded inviting. 

"Are you thinking about it?" 

_(Arthur asked her that the first time; it was tempting.)_

"Yes. Yes I am." 

She meant it. 

. 

Tavaruan Revolution, Valentine's Day Revolt, Revolution of 1903...whatever the people wanted to call it. 

It had been two years since those conversations. Lia was free. Alfred was bitter. 

And there was Arthur smiling proudly at her when she finally walked away from the one who never really raised her. 

_[2016]_

"You'll never leave me?" 

"Never." 

I felt like it was reassurance at the time to keep telling him that, seeing as I was the one who broke away. I laid there next to him one early morning, almost about to get up when I felt him gently pull me back down towards our bed. We couldn't sleep this long; he and I both knew we had a meeting at around 9:30, probably 10 that we had to wake up early for so we could beat the traffic. 

"Stay," he murmured into my bare shoulder. It was muffled and took a bit of some effort to hear, but I could make out his half-drowsed request with that one word. 

"We have a meeting at like...9:30." 

"Doesn't matter, darlin'. Just stay." 

I laughed softly, feeling more awake than ever as I switched my position with my back to him to where our eyes met and he leaned in for a good morning kiss, which I returned. I made myself comfortable before yawning again, and I could feel his hand gently stroke my cheek and he's looking at me with the softest gaze and the sleepiest smile and I swear in that moment I melted. 

God, he was adorable. 

"What time did you set the alarm for?" 

"Um...maybe 7:30, around eight, why?" 

"That's so early..." 

I laugh again and he pouts ever so slightly, but I can tell that he's just joking around and suddenly I agreed that UN conferences were way too early at this rate. 

"You can pull through. You're the world's sole superpower, remember?" 

"China's catching up to me," he reminded me once again. "And you and Russia're gaining speed, too." 

There would come a day when Alfred wouldn't be as powerful as he was now, and that idea had been around since the beginning of time. Not all things lasted forever, and then that's when I realized that we possibly might not last, too. 

I wanted to try, though. Even when the day came that America lost his place as the sole superpower I wanted to keep going on with him. He only ran a hand through my curls as he pulled me closer, nestling his nose into my hair as we laid there once again in silence. 

"You'll never leave me, right?" 

"What brought this up?" 

He chuckled. "Just answer the question." 

"I feel like I'm the one wearing the pants in this relationship." I could hear Alfred laughing from above me as he pressed another kiss to the top of my head and ran a hand down the small of my back, pulling me as close as he could get me towards him and entangled our legs together beneath the sheets. Simply put, it was a perfect morning. 

"I'll never leave you."

It was no 'I love you', but it seemed to count as one. 

And that would be enough. 


	3. You Hurt Me Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time she taints her skin, they hurt the most.

_You Hurt Me Once_

I'm selfish. _Very selfish_.

I don't know why I decided to start with that. Maybe it's just true, or maybe it's some natural human response that decided to show up later on. I just don't know, but I'm concluding that I'm selfish. And I do selfish things as a result. I didn't realize that it hurt me; but later on, I realized that it did. I kept doing it anyway. It helped me cope with the emotional pain I so desperately tried denying myself, and it helped...it just brought me under more scrutiny than I wanted.

People just started asking me questions, and I knew that I had to play dumb with it. There was no bad wrist (even though it _was_ a bad wrist). There were no burn scars on my wrist. And no, I didn't wear bandages on my wrist to look badass or use it as a fashion accessory.

( _"Why did she wear bandages around her left wrist?"_ )

I used it cover up my scars. And to cover my scars, I also covered them with lies.

.

I sat with my back against the door, knees hugged close to my chest. I heaved a few breaths as big tears rolled down my face, and my fingers were coated in my blood as I gripped my left wrist rather tightly. _What had I done, what had I done...?_

My mind was racing with possibilities at the realization of what I did. Around this time, I was sure to be looked down upon now that I think about what would happen if the news of me doing... _this_ came out. But then I thought that I wasn't the only one who did this. I remember Arthur telling me about these girls - some my age and some older -who practiced something like this but with sewing needles (and I believe he called them "needle girls"). And when you look at me, I didn't use a needle, which was probably less painful than what I used. And I didn't puncture myself repeatedly with it, as great as it sounded.

I looked down at my feet to see a beautifully carved tri-linked hearts handle bearing a perfectly sharpened, but small blade tipped with blood, and I carefully opened my fingers to see the long, perfectly cut line I made into my left wrist. It was still bleeding, and I watched it trickle down like a stream before making the decision to carefully wash it out and cover it up to avoid infection.

I hastily got up and clutched my wrist tightly so that the pressure would stop it from bleeding (be as it was a thin cut), and I quickly turned the faucet on to the coldest setting to numb it. As I began to wash the cut out, I hissed at the searing pain that had decided to catch up to me in place of the numbness I felt earlier when I first made it. Once it was clean and washed it out, I carefully held at my wrist again and searched my drawers and bed for a clean bandages to wrap it in until finally I found one. I wrapped it around my left wrist carefully, and I dropped to my bed with the stinging feeling shocking up my arm and sending me signals that I probably never should do this again.

I never listened. And that first time was not the last time.

.

Walking through my capital city with my hands shoved in my pockets made me all the more suspicious.

Odd, I know. Never seen a girl my age walk around with her hands in her pockets? You should see it in the winter. Anyways, I was trying to ignore the stares that bore into my back and made me uncomfortable to the point of where I constantly had to turn around to see who was watching me, and how people pointed out that I was trying to pull my left sleeve down to cover my bandaged wrist.

Thankfully, I also ignored the questions about what really happened to me until I got home.

Unraveling the bandages, there I could see the fresh new cut I had made below the first one I made a while back, and looking to the sky (or at least my ceiling) I let out a long, shaky sigh as I ran a dainty finger over the first one, which was still tender, and the second one, flinching at the slight stinging sensation both cuts had brought me. Walking over to my nightstand, I pulled open the drawer to catch sight of the now sheathed knife that I used once again, and with an emotionless laugh I remembered something.

He made me that knife himself.

I looked back down on those perfectly thin lines on decorating my wrist once again.

_One..._

_...Two..._

.

_...Three._

There were three of them now. As time went on, I began to feel the numbness again. There was no stinging sensation after I washed it a third time. My arms were red, yes, with blood and the irritation of me rubbing at them carefully to clean my latest cut out, and along the way I'd been coming up with numerous excuses as to why I kept wearing the bandages around my wrist. And not only did I have to wash out my cuts, but lately my bandages had been getting dirty - dust, dried blood...everything you can name.

I hovered over the sink as I finished up the routine I started for myself after I began doing this. Looking over myself in the mirror, I actually realized how horrible I looked when I was like this: dark circles under my eyes, my hair was unruly, and overall I was a mess.

And right now, I didn't feel like cleaning up. All I wanted to clean up was the blood on my hands (literally, might I add) and the horrible excuses I've made and maybe polish those up for some other person and see if they would fall for it.

Funny how I haven't used them on anyone I knew, and I was only using them on my own people. And it was even more amusing how in the moment I was thinking of myself.

( _Like I said before: I'm selfish._ )

Coming back into my room, the strong scent of iron lingered in the air and seemed to calm my senses as I took my newly washed bandages into my hands. I stopped when in the mid-attempt to lace them around my wrists again, and I stared at the three cuts in the eerie silence of my almost darkened room.

There's three. And it was supposed to be a perfect number, wasn't it? I thought it was.

I asked him to stay three times. He disappeared three times. There were three people he prioritized in his life over me. And because of that three, I cut three times.

(He should've seen how perfect that number was, thinking about what he did to me.)

Thank you for bringing one into the home we were supposed to live together in.

Thank you for neglecting me for the second.

And thank you for moving on with the third.

I hope you're happy. I'm not.

( _If you're wondering if this is the last time, you know me well enough by now._ )

_[2016]_

The silence was scarily unnerving to Alfred as he watched Lia sift through the box she had hidden in their walk-in closet. When they had first moved into their beach side home, she was particularly adamant on moving that box in with them. And who was he to deny her that?

( _"What exactly that box for?"_ He remembered asking her the first day he moved in with her.

 _"Shoes."_ And from then on he never asked again.)

Alfred peeked in at certain intervals, watching as his girlfriend rummaged through the box. There were a number of things in there - namely journals, old letters and uniforms, and tattered black and white photos. What caught his eye was the small wooden music box with the painted flower designs and he watched her take out the box ever so carefully, opening the lid and showing him the inside.

Taking it into his hands, Alfred observed the box carefully, then lifting it over his head to see that little knob that turned on the music box. "I...actually can't believe you kept this."

Lia only laughed softly, pushing a piece of her long, curled hair behind her ear as she hugged her knees close to her chest and rested her head on them, answering with, "Yeah, well, I did. Look in it."

He dutifully nodded, once again taking a peek inside the small box. Inside it were a number of things. Some one or two photos with inscriptions on the backs, little letters and postcards, and an old vintage-looking locket that he had given to her for her fifth birthday (to which she had sworn religiously to "never take off"; she took it off after her revolution), and he gulped nervously when he laid eyes on the last item: a sheathed blade, one with a perfectly sharpened blade and a smoothly polished wooden handle resembling that of tri-linked hearts.

"I made you this," he finally spoke after lifting it from its spot in the box.

"You did," she agreed, lifting her head slightly.

If there was anything she learned now that she was with Alfred, it was that their past was a touchy subject with him. He knew what he had done as of now, and worked tirelessly to make sure that the future they would have together was much better than what happened between them before. And he also knew that it was because of him that she hurt herself like that. She didn't need for him to try and win her forgiveness like that; she forgave him anyway. On top of that, she was trying her best to move past what he had done in order to focus on the relationship they had now.

Sometimes, though, the past enjoyed biting them both in the ass when need be.

"Does it still..."

"Al, they've faded a long time ago. You know that."

"No, I mean does it still hurt...what I did to you." _Oh._ Well, she wouldn't deny that it did. Of course it still hurt. Just talking about this still hurt her. She knew it hit him more than ever, now that he was still coming to terms with how much pain he brought her in the past, but she tried to avoid the subject as much as she could when it was brought up.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't," she answered after another moment of silence, stretching out her legs once she felt them fall asleep. When she wasn't given a reply in the next half a second or so, the blond Tavaruan turned to see her boyfriend still staring blankly at the knife in his hands, unmoved, unblinking. "Babe..."

"I'd rather have you be honest with me this time around," he chuckled softly, placing the knife back into the box before looking up at her again. "I'm sorry, Lia."

"You know you don't need to apologize."

"And you know I have to. Over and over again even though I know that it isn't enough to make up for all those years."

_(He had to because it was later on, or was it because he felt like he had to? She didn't know.)_

"So what if it's not enough to make up for it?" she then asked. Even if she was the one to have all the questions, she knew that he might have the answers (not even _might_ ; he _had_ them. He just had to figure out what to say). "Do you really think that I'm looking for you to make up almost two centuries with me, when really we don't know how much time we have together?"

And to be honest, he never knew how much time he had with her. For all he knew, one day she could just get up and leave him the way he left her all those years ago (and god knows that he deserved it, even during the times he'd ask him to never let her go again). He watched as she crawled over to him and perched next to him, blue eyes fixated on the knife that he had only been holding not but ten minutes ago.

He craned his head over to her, looking down at her left wrist before gently taking it in his hand and pressing kisses to one...two..three...and as she tore her gaze from the knife to meet his in a worried glance, he only leaned over to press his slightly chapped lips to her much softer, kissable ones. They melded together, moving in sync and before he could do anything else she pulled away to meet his gaze once more.

"I love you," he murmured softly, running a gentle thumb over the first three cuts that decorated her skin.

_(Lia was silent, but she did kiss him again.)_


End file.
